


a six-inch valley through the middle

by weird_bird (2weird4)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Butch/Butch, Daddy Kink, F/F, Genderswap, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 11:07:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15242028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2weird4/pseuds/weird_bird
Summary: “Enjoy the party, huh?” Tony offers her a plastic smile that doesn’t crinkle up to her crow's-feet. Seems like every time Petey sees her, there’s more grey in the rich brown of her short cut. “Have a drink. Talk to someone new.” She winks, and while Petey knows it’s all for show, her stomach flips over, just like when she used to watch her TED talks and struggle to admit to herself that Tony Stark was both the kind of woman she wanted to be and the kind of woman she wanted.





	a six-inch valley through the middle

**Author's Note:**

> i'm reallyy putting it all out there w this one. consider this a canon-adjacent au.
> 
> title from ["i'm on fire" (cover)](https://youtube.com/watch?v=VEFTK1stlGo) by chromatics.

As the elevator ticks past floor after floor of Stark Tower, Petey unbuttons her suit jacket. Pauses, buttons it again. Catching her reflection, she lifts a hand to her hair, a mess after she’d made the mistake of sitting near an open bus window, and smooths it over despairingly. It sticks up in the front where her barber was too enthusiastic with the scissors, and in the back, her fresh-shaved nape prickles with sweat. She should have used more hair gel. Less? She yearns to be suave, dapper, but she feels like a clumsy kid. 

An eternity later, and at the same time, way before she’s ready, the elevator doors chime open. Luckily, she was alone in the closed space. The moment she exits, though, she’s in the crush of mingling socialites. 

“Parker! Petey!” Before the chime of expensive wine glasses and clink of cheap laughter can press too deep into her head, her rescuer comes in the form of a beaming Shuri.

“Sorry, excuse me--wow, I am _so_ sorry--” Petey cringes her way through the crowd until she’s at her side. “Hi. Great party, huh?”

Skeptical, Shuri looks at him over the top of her glass, then looks around. “Are we at the same party?” Hair piled in a style intricate even for her, jewelry high at her neck, and dress hitting the floor, Shuri steals the show, as always. Not for the first time, Petey is struck by the fact that she’s on a first-name basis with a _literal_ princess.

Petey laughs, rubbing her nape. “Yeah, it’s, it’s a lot.” Not that she can go into why it’s especially sucky for her, perfume and chatter and lighting overwhelming her enhanced senses. She’s not Spider-Woman to her, but a Stark intern with a bench in the lab next door to Shuri’s (who is P.I., just normally remote). “Have you seen Dr. Stark?”

“Tony? Somewhere with a woman on each arm, I imagine. Why?” Shuri considers Petey for a moment, and then she claps her on the back, vibranium bracelet clacking. “You look very handsome, by the way.”

Just like that, Petey’s tension falls through. Her lips curve, her back straightens. Her newfound confidence makes her forget the question for a moment. Why does she want to see Tony? She has to make up something professional. They’ve gotten good at dodging suspicion, but Shuri’s all about the suspicion. “Uh--I wanted to talk to her about pushing forward the project deadline?”

Shuri pulls a face. “You _are_ a nerd.” Hand on Petey’s back, she scans the crowd. “Ah. There she is. But I warn you, she won’t want to talk shop right now.”

“Thanks!” Petey says, already starting in her direction. 

“Try not to be boring,” Shuri advises after her back, pained. 

Petey can only hope that won’t be a problem tonight. “You have a good night, too.” With a smile over her shoulder, she heads towards her again.

True to form, Tony's surrounded by sycophants. Wearing a camera smile, Tony talks with her radio voice, gestures with her television hands. When she meets Petey’s eyes over their heads, through, she freezes, and something in her face softens for a second. 

Petey lives for those seconds.

“Parker, didn’t think you’d make it out,” Tony says jovially. Then she’s at her elbow, hand on her shoulder, and the spice of her cologne drifts in Petey’s lungs. “This is one of our bright young minds. Always holed up in the lab. Was I saying I missed being young? I don’t.” A polite flutter of chuckles. “What did you say you wanted to do, kid?” 

“Chemical engineering,” Petey says automatically, “at M.I.T., Dr. Stark.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, it’s Tony! Gen Z, am I right.” They do this song and dance every time. It puts Petey off-kilter still, but she’s learning to keep up. 

Hand still on her shoulder. Hot and heavy.

Petey smiles absently, makes small talk about college applications, but all she can think of are those fingers in her hair, that palm under her mouth. 

“Enjoy the party, huh?” Tony offers her a plastic smile that doesn’t crinkle up to her crow's-feet. Seems like every time Petey sees her, there’s more grey in the rich brown of her short cut. “Have a drink. Talk to someone new.” She winks, and while Petey knows it’s all for show, her stomach flips over, just like when she used to watch her TED talks and struggle to admit to herself that Tony Stark was both the kind of woman she wanted to be and the kind of woman she wanted.

“Thanks,” Petey says, clearing her throat, “thanks.” She’s already gone, and Petey’s stomach sinks to her toes and down every level below them. On an intellectual level, she knows it has to be like this. On an emotional level, she’s--she's _insecure_ and she just...doesn’t _want_ it to be like this. When they’re in their suits, it’s different, maybe. But then Iron Woman’s locked up in armor and Spider-Woman covers her face, and it’s all focus and strategy, and maybe she doesn’t want it to be like that, either. 

Around Tony, she doesn’t always know what she wants. She just _wants._

An agonizing hour passes where Petey makes restless rounds around the room. Finally, she sneaks off to the balcony for some night breeze, relief from the stimulation of the party. 

She’s not joined there. Disappointment at this is dumb; it surfaces anyway. What did she think, they were going to close the doors and make out in the open air? Just when she’s opened the door, though, she hears Tony, closer than she’s gotten to her since she greeted her.

“Just left something back at the office. Seriously! Seriously,” Tony says, laughing, a hand on someone’s slender arm. “Keep going, party people. You won’t even miss me.”

“You’re going to leave us for _work,_ Tony?” Being able to pout verbally is pretty impressive, Petey has to admit. Spider-Woman voice has nothing on that.

“Twenty minutes, tops,” Tony tells them in dismissal. And she’s off, pressing flesh as she passes through the crowd.

Petey _suspected,_ but when that hand, in passing, lays for a second against her nape, that’s when she knows. The soft hair there stands up. Her ears redden.

Those are the seconds that matter.

She waits til the wall of noise closes back up behind Tony. Stands there, pulls at her tie, sips at her drink. Then Petey sets down her glass and slinks off to the elevator.

Her hand drums on her thigh, eyes closing as the elevator drops, stomach somersaulting with it. She walks out almost blindly, feet knowing the way, heart in her ears. She opens the door and sees Tony there, one hand braced on the desk and the other nursing a glass tumbler, and her blood beats with the sound of her swallow.

“So those Spidey senses are good for something.” She jerks her chin at the door, and Petey closes it without looking away. Tony looks down into the scotch, then sets the tumbler down. Beckons to her.

Petey sets a hand on her knee, and Tony makes her jump when she barks, “FRIDAY, activate protocol ‘Private Meeting.’”

A mechanical whir, and the door locks, the shutters snap closed, and the lights dim. There’ll be tech muffling any noises that would escape from the room as well. Yeah, she’s familiar with this protocol. She’s probably not the only one.

Petey’s head drops between her shoulders, and she stares at the grey wool stretched over Tony’s knee, where her hand still rests, trembling slightly.

She rubs the back of her neck, firm and grounding. “You’re quiet,” she observes. “Hey.” Her thumb lifts her chin.

Petey lifts her eyes. “Hi.” Tony’s eyes are big and brown under her dark brows, the twist of her lips making Petey want her kiss. Like Petey needs a push to want her kiss. 

“Hey, kid.” A brilliant smile spreads across her face. “Should’ve told me you were coming.”

“I didn’t think I was,” admits Petey. The moment’s suddenly so private that she craves the shielding of public to hide behind again. This is Tony’s office. Her low-tech one, at least, for when she’s feeling like her mother, Petey thinks, though they never talk about either of their families in so many words. Her big old polished wood desk, pens for clever fingers, notebooks with pages missing, half-crazed, half-erased scribbles on the whiteboard.

“You could have texted me.” Tony’s hands tug at her lapels, and she looks her up and down, up and down. Her fingertip flicks open the third button of her shirt, leaving it puckered around her undershirt.

“I wanted to surprise you?” Petey suggests weakly.

Tony tugs her into a kiss that tastes nothing like alcohol and everything like herself. Hand on her face to hold her where she wants her, lips and tongue, wet and hot before she pulls her back, keeps her there, too, even when Petey strains forward. “Consider me surprised.” She tilts her head to the side, the hand falling from her face to her collar. She pinches her cheap tie between two fingers. “You look sharp.”

Petey pitches forward to kiss her, and Tony rubs her shoulder as if to comfort her as their mouths slide together slickly. “I just wanted to see you,” she says, shaking her head, wincing. “I’m sorry if I shouldn’t have come, I just--”

Tony’s fingers touch her mouth to hush her. “Petey, we threw ‘should’ out the window a long time ago.” Her eyes shade with a kind of pain. “I always want to see you.”

Cheek in her palm, Petey holds her hand to her face, kissing the base of her thumb. “Sorry.”

Tony’s fingertips lay over her lips again, pressing. “Shh, baby.” Her thumb tugs across her lower lip.

Petey’s lips part slackly, and she sucks at the tip of her thumb. When Tony slides her finger-tips into her mouth, she sucks, mouth pliant, eyelids sinking.

Grabbing the front of her shirt, Tony tugs it out of her slacks with her free hand. Her suit shifts over her built upper body as her muscles flex, trapped under jacket, shirt, and tie. “You got all dressed up for me. Is that it?”

Her stomach jumps at the lick of air-conditioning. Spit drips down her chin and dries cold as Tony pulls her wet fingers from her mouth. “I wanted to--look like you.” Not baby butch band shirts and jeans, not gangly and weird. Older. Mature. She’s not sure which one matters more.

“You don’t look a thing like me,” Tony says over Petey’s gasp as she shoves her hand past her waistband, into her boxers. Two fingers tuck under her clit and curl. “I would never want you to, kid.”

Petey’s hand grips her arm. She’s shaking everywhere. Shirt in disarray, the silky end of her tie flicks over her naked stomach when her hips jerk. _”Dr. Stark--”_ While she has been worn down to _Tony,_ it’s hard to think of her without a title when they’re in her office.

Tony doesn’t seem to mind. She works her clit with her thumb, hungry-eyed. “Yeah, there’s only so much noise FRIDAY can cancel out. If we don’t keep it down, we can’t do this. So. Do you think you can be quiet for me?” Her thumb slips down her folds, then catches up against her clit again with just the edge of her blunt nail. 

Petey turns her face away, biting her lip against a moan, and then there’s a mouth sliding down her neck as she rubs steady, hard circles over her. 

“Petey.” Displeased, Tony angles her fingertip right at her exposed clit--too much, _too much._ “Can you be good for me?”

“Yes,” Petey gasps. “Yes, Dr. Stark.” 

Her teeth scrape her neck, thick hair brushing her ear and soft tongue in counterpoint. “Yes, what?” The hand slips mercifully to her thigh, the wetness on her fingers betraying just how slick she is for her. 

It would be embarrassing if Petey didn’t feel so helpless. Under the confines of boxers and slacks, stifled. “Yes, I can be good?”

Tony tuts against her neck, pulling back to stare at her. “Petey, we’ve talked about this.”

“We have?” But Tony’s already grabbing her, turning her around and all but throwing her onto the desk. Significantly stronger than her, Petey could fight her off, not let this happen. But why wouldn’t she let this happen? Petey hits the desk with a groan, scrabbling over sheaves of paper and sending pens rolling to the luxurious carpet. Her palms flatten against the wood, lifting herself enough to look back over her shoulder at her. “Dr. Stark?” she ventures, tremulous. Her thighs press together uselessly at a fresh pulse of wet.

Sighing, Tony thrusts her hips up against Petey’s ass, and her blood throbs low in her body. “Let’s try that again.” Tony leans low over her, forcing her flat across the desk as her fingertips skim idly up and down her folds. Her whisper burns against the flushed shell of her ear: “Can you be good for me, baby?”

Petey understands in a flash. _“Yes,_ Daddy.” Her ass lifts on a moan, and Tony’s big hands wrap around her hips so she can grind back against her, cheek pressed to the cool wood.

Tony squeezes her hips before she wrestles her slacks down to her thighs, leaving them rucked up just above her knees so her legs are trapped together. She’s more gradual with her boxers, eases them inch by inch down her ass and stops halfway to bite at her flesh, making Petey cry out. Hooking her thumbs in the waistband at last, she drags them down to join her slacks. "I knew you could be good for me." A rake of her nails, and Petey’s thighs shudder. "You look perfect like this. Next time, I'll have something tailored for you, and you can wear me all day."

“Please.” Petey swallows, wets her lips. “I’ve...I’ve waited all night, come on…” She watched when her daddy gave everyone in the room attention but her, and she waited because she knew what this was. She knew her place.

Tony’s hand slides around her thigh and cups between her thighs, two fingers catching the sides of her clit and thumb at the tip. "I kept looking at you all night. You never saw." Surrounds it in pressure til Petey quakes under her. “I saw you watching me with those women.” Voice deep, fond. “You’re a jealous little thing, huh.”

Sweat drips down her sides, still stuck in all those layers. “I wasn’t _jealous,_ she starts, “I was just--”

Tony spanks her.

Petey jerks against the desk, swerves around to try to look at her, but Tony’s hand fists in her hair and pushes her forehead against the desk. She makes a noise that could only be called a whimper. “I don’t care,” she mumbles rebelliously. “I don’t care who you touch.”

Tony’s hand comes down hard on her ass again. “I guess I should be proud that you haven’t learned how to lie from me.”

Petey whimpers, jaw tightening against the unyielding surface under her face. “Should be proud of a lot of things.”

A surprised laugh at that, and Tony’s leaning down to pull her into a kiss, working the jacket over her shoulders as Petey tries to help. “Like how well you clean up?” Like the slacks, though, Tony doesn’t pull them the jacket all the way off, and now she’s bound below the elbows with her own suit, too. “I told you what the key to wearing a suit is, right.”

She turns her head again so she can talk. “Matching pocket square?”

Her palm slaps into her ass hard enough to print it pink, she’s sure. _”Confidence.”_ She smacks her other cheek and then pinches the smarting skin. “Did you show me that today?”

Petey hisses. “Can’t--do--it--likeyoucan.” A rain of slaps punctuates her panting words.

There’s something like guilt wrapped up under her tone when Tony next speaks. She’s breathing hard, too. “I don’t _need_ you to be _me.”_ She cups her palm, dulling the sound of the next slap, then grabs a hurting handful of her rough enough that Petey’s hips come off the desk. “I need you to be _you.”_

“Hard to be me here.” Petey swallows, throat tight. “How can you ask me--I mean, you’re not even _you_ out there. That’s not you.”

Her weight on her back, breasts soft over her shoulder-blades, arc reactor a hard disk between them. “Baby,” she says, and this time, Petey swallows a sob. 

Blindly, Petey snatches up her wrist. She grabs too hard, doesn’t care the skin over fine bone will be braceleted dark come morning. _“This_ is what you are.” She kisses her, almost angry in her passion.

“What am I?” Tony murmurs against her mouth. Her hand flexes in her hold like Iron Woman’s gauntlet. But she doesn’t break her grip. It’s like she’s been making her wait years by the time her fingers make her way between her thighs again, quick and hard on her clit. Clothed hips rock against raw skin, and Tony pulls her head back to kiss away the sweat about to drip under Petey’s collar.

Petey’s hand spasms around her wrist. _”Mine.”_

Like that’s what she was waiting for, Tony rubs her clit good and giving til she comes off her toes and comes and comes.

Washed up on the desk, Petey can't find enough oxygen to fill her lungs. There are tears in her eyelashes.

Tony's arms border her heaving sides, and her mouth moves over her nape, slow and loving. “Listen, Petey. I don’t like it any more than you do.”

“Just shut _up,_ Tony,” Petey says as she heaves them upright, hand balanced on the edge of the desk. Other hand reaching back to cup Tony’s head, she catches her shocked expression sidelong and kisses her. “I know, okay, I know what it’s like.”

Tony rubs her side before she turns her around in her arms so Petey’s leaning against the desk this time. Holding her face in both hands, she kisses her, lingering, line of her body aligned exactly with hers. “Come home with me tonight.”

Petey breaks the kiss, skeptical. “Is that a good idea?” 

Tony’s thumbs run down the soft fuzz of her sideburns. “No.” That smile’s an intimate thing. “Let’s do it anyway.”

Unable to help herself, Petey grins. “You’re full of bad ideas, Dr. Stark. So what should I do, sneak out first-- _oh.”_

Her mouth is on her neck again, her favorite spot, nibbling and sucking somewhere her collar can’t cover, no way. “You look like a mess,” she mutters against her skin, which blushes in a hurry under the kisses. “You can’t go back like this.”

“So just, just, give me a chance to clean up, then…” Petey inhales sharp.

“I’ll clean you up.” Tony’s undoing her tie now, deft and practiced, as she presses possessive kisses to her jaw and sucks on her ear. She pulls it loose around her neck, runs her fingers down the length on either side so Petey can feel the texture through her shirt. On the way back up, Tony cups her breasts. “Later.”

“We have to get back to the party eventually,” Petey protests, but she’s already helping her pluck open her buttons so Tony can splay her open for her eyes and hands. She’s wearing just an undershirt inside, nipples standing out hard against the thin cloth.

Tony sucks at her through the cloth before she shoves it up, gets her mouth on her bare breasts. Her lips wrap around her nipple, and then she _bites,_ just a bit. “Eventually,” she agrees, obtuse again.

“Oh my god,” Petey mumbles, watching her controlled drop to her knees, palms over her breasts, squeezing until they have to mpve to her hips instead. Struggling, Petey somehow manages to step out of her slacks, her nice new dress shoes, and Tony tugs off her socks, too. Her chest heaves as she looks down at her. Petey's sure she looks as wrecked as she feels, and Tony barely has a hair out of place.

he can fix that, at least. When Tony smirks back at her, she shoves her hand through her hair hard. “Is there something you want, baby?”

“You know there is,” Petey says, frustrated, but Tony only digs her fingers into her sore ass, head staying right where it is. Petey pulls her hair.

Tony’s eyes flicker dark in pleasure. She still doesn’t move.

Petey bites her lip. Her sleeves are wrinkled up her forearms, her undershirt’s up around her collarbone, and her button-down’s hanging open. She doesn’t have much dignity left to lose. “Daddy,” she whispers, “Daddy, please suck me.” But it feels so good to give it over to her.

Tony’s smirk curves, and she dips in to, no, _no,_ run the tip of her tongue wickedly up her folds, setting her nerves on edge without taking the edge off of anything. 

Grabbing for the desk with one hand, Petey tugs insistently on her hair with the other, throwing her head back and pushing her hips up, needing more.

Finally, Tony's lips melt around her clit, and she works her _right,_ Petey’s hips jolting along with her motions. Tony actually has to pull back to breath, and with triumph, Petey watches her push the heel of her hand against herself. Her chin slides wet against her thigh, and she kisses her messily there. She’s forced to still Petey by her hips when she doesn’t stop moving, and Petey laughs at her exasperation. “You’re a handful, aren’t you.”

Petey nudges her thigh against her ear, smile impish. “Am I in trouble, Daddy?”

Tony just raises her eyebrows. “You’re in _so much trouble,_ kid.”

Yeah, Petey knows what it’s like.

 

The next morning, sunshine spills over Petey’s face, but she doesn’t open her eyes. It’s Saturday morning, and she told Aunt May she’d be crashing at a friend’s, so there’s no one expecting her back. There’s only Tony expecting her in bed. The tangled sheets smell of sex and Tony’s cologne. This morning’s just for them, a few precious hours where neither has to rush off for work or secrecy’s sake.

Suddenly, the back of her neck prickles. No danger, though. Just her senses picking up the creak of Tony’s footfalls, the murmur of her voice on the phone, and then, unexpectedly but delightedly, a hand smoothing down her thigh.

Petey opens one eye. “Hi.”

Hilariously, Tony startles, her hand jerking away.

Laughing at her under her breath, Petey pulls her hand back to her thigh and sits up to kiss her cheek, nuzzling against her jaw. “Gotcha,” she breathes in her ear. Lets her thighs fall open.

Tony pulls her phone away from her face. _“Jesus,_ kid.” She gives her a warning look even as she grazes her hand back down towards her rolled-up boxer leg.

Her shoulders snuggle back into the mound of pillows, smile innocent. “Nice way to wake up,” she whispers up at her. She draws lazy figure-eights over the muscle of her bare abdomen, hips flexing up in invitation. “Like, super thoughtful of you, Dr. Stark.”

Huffing, Tony covers her mouth, and Petey gives her wide eyes until Tony relents and moves her hand to kiss her briefly, other hand moving from her thigh to muffle her phone. 

As though she just can’t be bothered, Petey keeps lounging. Her toes creep up Tony’s thigh, and Tony catches her foot without pausing in her argument with whoever was dumb enough to be calling her right now. “Important call?” she mouths exaggeratedly.

Tony narrows her eyes and nods, bending Petey's leg away and back towards her chest.

“Okay. Cool. Then I guess I’ll just…” Lip caught between her teeth, she slips her hand down her boxers, past her coarse hair to stroke at her clit. If she bounces back into the mattress and imagines hard enough, she could maybe, _maybe_ feel that she was spanked last night. But in reality, her healing works too fast for any marks or aches to remain. Not so for Tony, though, who wears Petey’s handprint clasped in purple over her shoulder.

Playing with herself, she lets her eyes roll over her. Tony fell asleep in her wife-beater and slacks, which makes her look rakish and sexy, a vintage butch who should be in some black-and-white photograph. 

Tony clutches her phone too tight as she watches Petey, and her biceps bulge.

Craning up, Petey kisses the swell of her muscle, then paints the bruise she left over her shoulder with kisses. Forehead leaned into her breasts, she sighs when Tony’s hand scrubs over her hair, her own hand moving faster.

Then Tony pushes her back, not ungently. Jerking her chin, she mouths, _“Go get it.”_

And Petey needs no clarification. Pulling her hand out of her pants, she swings herself out of bed hastily enough that Tony snorts behind her--then has to smooth it over with an apology to the woman she’s supposed to be doing business with at the moment. She comes back with the strap-on and crawls backwards onto the bed.

Tony pats her hip, telling her without words to get on with it.

Head bent to her, Petey pushes up her shirt and licks at the dark trail of hair that disappears under her belt. She keeps kissing her stomach as she unbuckles the belt and pulls its length free. The leather smells expensive.

Petey stays close so she can keep kissing at the bit of softness over the muscle on her belly--where Petey’s whip-thin, Tony is reassuringly thick--as she undoes her slacks.

Phone in the crook of her neck, Tony pets Petey’s shoulders with one hand, picking up and passing over the strap-on with the other. After Petey takes it, Tony plucks at Petey’s shirt, mouths, _“Off.”_

Sitting back on her heels, Petey strips off the much-abused undershirt and then kicks her way out of her soaked boxers. She’s gonna have to do laundry before she goes or hope against hope that she left something in Tony’s closet the last time she stayed at her penthouse. Naked now, she kneels in front of her for her appraisal.

Tony’s lips curve, and she runs a hand down her ribs, sideways over her thighs.

Petey knows Tony can see how wet she is with her legs apart like this. Smell her, maybe--her own scent’s dense in her nose. She flattens her tongue against Tony through her boxers, looks up at her longingly. “Daddy,” she whispers, “can I?”

Smile growing indulgent, Tony lets Petey undress her and get on the strap.

Petey watches her own hand wrap around the toy and tug. Her tongue flicks over the tip and wraps around the side, and Tony’s hand rubs her neck. What she hates about this one is no matter how she tilts her head or moves the toy, she can’t really taste _her,_ just the salt of her sweat. But she does love the angles they can get.

Tony holds the phone away from her head as she moves over to lean against the headboard, thighs spread. “Come here, baby,” she says as quiet as she can.

Excitement electric in her stomach, Petey grabs the lube out of the bedside table. Gets down on all fours with her lips on Tony's thigh, eyes on her jawline as she opens her ass up on two fingers. She’s tight, but she knows her body, knows how to get it ready for Tony. She inches forward so her head can bob leisurely on the toy. The slick sounds make Tony have to clear her throat and press the phone to her ear.

Petey licks her lips and grins when Tony yanks back her head. “What?”

Tony stares, but while Petey pulls her fingers free of herself, she doesn’t move yet, just blinks back at her.

With a near-growl, Tony grabs her by the waist and pulls her in close.

Laughingly, she settles over her lap, feeling the smooth toy settle up between her folds as she grinds down on her. She’s obscenely wet and eager, flushed splotchy down her chest, but she waits. Because she might be good, but Tony makes her wanna be bad.

Tony’s knuckles ripple with intent as she fists the base of the toy, nudges the flared tip up under Petey’s clit.

Grasping the new headboard (she cracked the last one) with one hand, she can’t help her moan, and she claps the other over her mouth as she ruts against her.

A hand slaps down onto her thigh, and then Tony has a handful of her ass, dragging her forward til the toy catches at the rim of her hole.

Muscles tensed, Petey makes herself breathe, in out, in out, Tony’s hand on her stomach now so Petey can sink down as slow as she likes. Which isn’t very slow. She sits down on the toy with a high whine. Bites down on the meat of her palm.

Tony massages her lower back soothingly, and Petey’s shoulders slump forward as she rolls her hips. “Yeah, no, sounds great,” she’s saying in response to protracted jargon from the woman on the other end. As cool and collected as she’s been so far, this is getting to her, voice gone hoarse. 

Petey could listen in if she tried harder, but right now, she can’t tell if it’s Stark business or Avengers business and as much as she likes to be let into Tony’s world, she has what she wants from her right now.

The toy sparks where she’s sensitive just inside and deeper, fills her up so good, splitting her open around her. She remembers the first time Tony fucked her ass, how she writhed so hard she had to be held down. “Daddy, call her back,” she begs, running her hands down her chest. 

Tony holds her finger to her lips, and Petey tilts her face to pinch the bruised skin around her wrist with her teeth. Her cuff covered it yesterday, but with every grand hand-motion Tony made, Petey felt smugly proprietary.

Hissing, Tony jerks her hand away and slaps Petey’s ass. “Daddy’s _busy,”_ Tony admonishes, tongue-in-cheek, when she can pull the phone away for a moment. She doesn’t seem too mad, though, because she just traps the phone against her ear so she can put both hands on her ass, guide her into fucking herself deep.

Petey won’t relent. Folded over her, she sucks Tony’s nipples, wet spots blooming over her undershirt on either side of the arc reactor’s glow, Tony struggling not to groan. She sits hard over her hips, wincing at the hard surface where she’s so soft but wanting to give her that _friction._ And it must work.

“Uh huh. Yes, I’ll--have my people call your people. Thanks.” Tony doesn’t wait for a response before she hangs up and tosses her phone to the foot of the bed. “You little brat.”

Breathless, Petey laughs down at her. “I can’t believe you didn’t just hang up before!”

Arms dropping heavy around her, Tony pulls her over the toy, again and again. “You think this is my job, huh?”

“Um…” Petey shrugs a shoulder, hand diving down to rub her clit in rhythm. “I think you have nothing better to do.”

Tony looks scandalized, so taken aback that Petey snickers and kisses her.

“So can I come now, or…”

“Can you come now. Let me think about that.” Keeping firmly inside, Tony tosses her onto her back and holds her wrists above her head with one hand, the other slipping between their bodies. She sucks marks all into her throat and down her shoulders as Petey moans and squirms. Murmurs a blur of filth and praise, thrusts into her, hand working her. In the end, she fucks her to messy orgasm twice, her eyes blazing into hers like she can’t believe she can do this to Petey, when Petey would let her do anything, anything.

 

Tony actually joins her naked in the sheets after that, holding her loosely so sweat doesn’t paste them together. Her fingertips circle the roses of fast-fading bruises on her skin. With a sigh, she kisses the curve of her neck where yesterday, she left a love-bite. That lasted just long enough that when they rejoined the party, Shuri took one look at her neck and didn't let up teasing for the rest of the night about her meeting a girl, Petey avoiding her eyes studiously. Tony was right. She was a really bad liar. “You feeling better now?”

Petey turns in her arms and lifts her hand to her face. “I didn’t feel bad in the first place?”

“Yesterday?” Tony grimaces. “I could see how uncomfortable you were, Petey.”

Flopping the other way onto her back, Petey screws up her face at the ceiling. “Can we talk about this, like, never.”

Hand rubbing her damp belly, Tony grunts her agreement.

Tony’s ceiling fan is, of course, nice enough that even it doesn’t make a sound, and Tony wouldn’t be caught dead with a clock in her place that actually ticks, like what is this, the Stone Age, so it’s really just their steadying breathing that fills the big bedroom. “So how long is Shuri in town this time?” Peter asks into the silence. 

“Couple weeks,” Tony says with a shrug she feels against her shoulder. “Your revised web formula--I still don't think it's strong enough." Tony never thinks it's strong enough, and it's annoying because she doesn't trust Petey's science and cute because she's so concerned. "I should consult with her on it." Tony means to pass along Petey’s work to Shuri on behalf of Spider-Woman. “Or...you could.”

“Me?” Petey sits up so she can search her face. “But we’d have to tell her.”

“You talked about wanting to join the team in an official capacity someday,” Tony reminds her, nonchalant for how momentous this is to Petey. “I think someday’s coming up pretty soon.”

Petey’s heart pounds. “You want to tell everyone.”

“Not _everyone,”_ Tony corrects.

Thoughtful, Petey lays back down. Her foot brushes Tony’s. “Not everything.”

Tony exhales through her nose. “Cap’s an old lady. How about one heart attack at a time.”

“One heart attack at a time.” Petey closes her eyes. “I’m gonna be an _Avenger.”_

“Kid,” Tony says. Then, warmer, _“Sweetheart.”_ The bed shifts, and there are tender lips on hers. “You always were.”

And that’s how the day starts and ends, doing what they do, having sex, breaking for snacks, having sex again, brainstorming half-heartedly in the lab until Tony asks FRIDAY for updates from her custom newsfeed, and what they hear makes them both suit up and move out.

They do what they do, and Petey's not sure what to call it, but she kind of likes _partner,_ for all it entails. Lives that interlock in ways they’re still explaining to each other: mentor and colleague, hope and fear, past and future, lover and friend.


End file.
